Winter's Mourning

by Janice J. Richardson

  She had no idea who the author of the quote was, and made a mental note to look it up later. I need to document this, she told herself as she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the message. It’s a piece of paper, it can’t hurt me, she reminded herself.

  Jennifer left the letter on the front seat of the car, locked the car door, walked into the funeral home and straight to her office. Starting to feel somewhat detached from the event that had just taken place, a clinical outer observation took over her mind. She’d learned from sessions with her counsellor in Toronto, over the years she’d been in therapy, that her detachment was a defence mechanism against the feeling of anxiety the situation provoked. She’d also learned through counselling to ground herself, so she chose to face her fear and be proactive.

  With fifteen minutes to spare before the interview, she called Detective Sergeant Gillespie at the police station and left a voice mail outlining what the note said. She mentioned she’d be available around noon if he wanted to see it. Fighting the anxiety, she forced herself to walk slowly and breathe deeply as she sought out Elaine to let her know they’d do their best to be back by noon, before finding Marcia, who was in the suite tweaking the flower set-up.

  “Look’s great Marcia,” Jennifer commented. The suite looked like a display at a local fair, each arrangement vying for the blue ribbon.

  “It does, doesn’t it.” Marcia stood back to survey her work. She had pollen on in her hair and some smudged on her face.

  “You might want to look in the mirror before we leave. A few of the flowers attacked you.”

  “Pollen?”

  “Hair and face.”

  “Occupational hazard. Shall we take my car?”

  “Sure.”

  Marcia tossed her the keys. “Meet you outside.”

  Jennifer breathed a tiny sigh of relief as she walked to the door. Marcia, ever astute, hadn’t picked up on her anxiety. She was too busy to notice and for once Jennifer was glad she’d hidden it from her friend.

  Jennifer walked out into the sunshine and surveyed the parking lot. She picked up a few stray pieces of paper and garbage, and tossed them in the dumpster. She walked past the gardens and all the way around the building, purposely putting any thought of the note out of her mind. As she approached the front of the building she found herself checking to see if there were any cars parked across the street or on the side street she didn’t recognize. It was quiet. She recognized a few of the neighbours’ vehicles. There was no one else.

  I was hoping that Travis was long gone, she thought. Maybe he didn’t write the note. I have to check the files he did when we get back and see if it matches his handwriting. If it wasn’t him, then who? Maybe I’d better bag the letter and envelope and put it in my office.

  She went through the garage door and upstairs to her apartment to get a zippered plastic bag. Grimsby meowed softly and she petted him, feeling her anxiety ease as he purred. His little motor sent waves of calm up through her arm. Jennifer gave him a quick kiss between his ears.

  Back downstairs she went outside to the car. Unlocking the door, she hesitated. She could see the note on the seat.

  Pale death ... your death.

  The word death reached out to her. She shivered. I have to get a handle on this. Forcing herself to open the door, she snatched up the letter and envelope by the edge and carefully placed them in the bag. She changed her mind about putting it in her office, hiding it under a box of disposable gloves in the garage instead. If someone from the police department were to come to pick up the note, she could meet them there. She didn’t want the staff to know about the incident just yet. She paced the garage, increasingly restless as she waited for the police and Marcia.

  Was it Travis? She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was behind the threat.

  .

  5

  Brent Vaughn was waiting at Williams Funeral Home when Jennifer and Marcia arrived. Desta had settled him in the lounge and given him a coffee. Desta saw Marcia’s car pull in and met Jennifer and Marcia at the back door, to let them know he’d arrived and offered them coffee as well. Jennifer declined, the incident in the parking lot at City Hall left her feeling a bit off. Marcia said she might have one later. The two of them went to down to the lounge.

  A gentleman rose as they entered. Jennifer hoped her nervousness didn’t show. It was her first job interview as a manager.

  “Brent, I’m Jennifer, this is Marcia,” she said with a warm smile. He shook both their hands. Brent matched the description of himself he’d given Jennifer. He made eye contact with both of them and his smile was genuine.

  “How was your trip to Niagara?” she asked. His response would set the tone for the rest of the interview. If he remained positive, even it was pouring rain and the traffic horrible, his answer would give her an indication how he responded to pressure, how much at ease he was with small talk, and if he could engage comfortably with others.

  “Perfect trip. It’s a beautiful area. I’m looking forward to exploring it more.”

  Marcia asked Brent if his wife had been able to find work in Niagara but before Brent could answer, Desta came down the stairs. “Sorry to interrupt Marcia, but Jeff just called. He will not be able to work today. He’s sick.”

  “No,” groaned Marcia. “Not today. We have a major visitation and he is sick?” She looked at Jennifer.

  “I have a two o’clock meeting at the hospital. I’m hoping the family will be in early so I can make it on time. That leaves you and Elaine until I get back. They were going to let me know this morning if the pallbearer’s or family members could help. I haven’t heard from them.”

  Jennifer’s phone rang before Marcia could respond. The display showed the call was from Detective Sergeant Gillespie. She rose.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jennifer said to Brent. “I have to take this, please excuse me.” She went out the back door of the lounge into the storage area.

  “Hello Detective Sergeant.”

  “Jennifer, can you give me a description of the man who handed you the note in the parking lot?” He was all business, not even a hello.

  “Not really. I think he had dark hair, he might have been a bit under six feet tall. Other than that, I didn’t really pay attention. It happened so fast.”

  “What kind of car was he driving? Did you notice the colour?”

  “Grey. Didn’t notice if it was a two or four door. It was average size.”

  “I want to send an officer to pick up the note. Someone will be there in ten minutes.”

  “I’m not there,” Jennifer said quickly before he could hang up. He was in work mode, abrupt and busy.

  “Then make it twenty minutes. I spoke with one of the major crimes detectives with the Ontario Provincial Police. They’ve lost track of Travis. They just happened to mention you could be in jeopardy.”

  “Alright.”

  He disconnected. It wasn’t personal, she knew he was concerned and angry that Travis was still at large. Jennifer had to do her best to maintain a calm exterior, her job demanded it. Internally though, her emotions roiled like an angry sea, the fear rising and falling in waves.

  Walking back to the lounge she heard a burst of laughter. Marcia and Brent were getting along just fine without her.

  “I am so sorry Brent,” she said. “I have to get back to the funeral home.” She looked at Marcia. “Are you OK to continue or should we move to Spencer’s?”

  Before Marcia could answer Brent jumped in.

  “Marcia told me it’s just the two of you managing both places right now, and you’re short staffed. I have the afternoon and evening free. I’d be happy to assist.”

  Jennifer wanted to hug him. She looked at Marcia, who nodded. “Then we might just have to take you up on that offer. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”

  “That’s not necessary. Think of it as a trial run for the position here.”

  “Of course it’s necessary,” said Marcia. “And if you�
��re free for dinner, perhaps you could join us? I’m hoping my boyfriend is free.”

  Jennifer looked at Marcia, whose comments were out of character for her. Who was this person and what happened to her friend who was usually all business? The Iron Lady? This wasn’t the way a job interview went.

  Jennifer’s phone rang again.

  “Hi,” said Elaine. “You have a call. The family will be here in half an hour.”

  “On my way.” she disconnected. “We have another call, Marcia, so I guess Brent can follow us in his car?” She turned to him. “This wasn’t how I planned the interview. But I assure you, I am grateful for the help.”

  “My pleasure.” He got up, went to the counter, and started to wash his cup. Jennifer and Marcia looked at each other. Marcia did a small thumbs-up sign. A man who picked up after himself was a bonus.

  Marcia poked her head into the office. “Sorry Desta, we have to get back. It’s not how I’d hoped you’d spend your first week here—all by yourself.”

  Desta smiled. “I have plenty to do getting oriented. I can always double-check with Elaine if I need to.”

  “Thanks Desta,” said Jennifer.

  Marcia started the car and waited for Brent to pull his vehicle up behind hers. “What do you think of Brent?” she asked Jennifer as they pulled out of the lot.

  “Too soon to tell. Although we’ll definitely know by the end of the day.”

  “I like him. He reminds me of Phil—laid-back, smart. Underneath he has a razor-sharp wit. He’s quite funny.” Phil was one of their former colleagues they’d worked with in Toronto. The three of them used to be inseparable.

  “Did he say when he could start?” Jennifer was half joking and half-serious. They laughed. From the way the day was going, it looked like he’d already started.

  Brent parked his car at the back of the lot. Jennifer noted with pleasure that he backed into the space. Clearly he was used to large funerals. Normally it wouldn’t matter if a car pulled into a space, but when a large visitation took place it was a good idea to get visitors to back in, less chance of a fender-bender or mishap. People were often distracted upon leaving a visitation.

  Walking into the garage they were met by a bank of flowers. They could barely get through.

  “Whoa,” said Marcia.

  “Hmmm,” responded Brent.

  Jennifer didn’t say a word. She took off her jacket, hung it on one of the hooks in the garage and picked up an arrangement. “Guess we should start filling the chapel. We’re going to have to get more flower stands from Williams. I’ll make sure Elaine orders lunch. Maybe we could take some over to Desta when we pick up the stands.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth then she heard a vehicle pull up. She was hoping it wasn’t the police officer Ryan was sending over. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone what happened.

  She heard a vehicle door close and then the familiar sound of a sliding door. She let out a small sigh of relief—another flower van. The garage door opened and a harried John came in bearing blooms.

  “Hi John,” said Jennifer cheerfully.

  “Jennifer.” He looked at the garage full of baskets and containers. “This is insane.”

  “It is, how can I put this, kind of overkill? I like to see flowers at a funeral at the best of times, but this is getting ridiculous. The poor man was 102, how many of these flower senders visited him in the nursing home?”

  “Exactly. Mind you, it’s good for business.”

  “If you don’t run out of flower’s first,” laughed Jennifer. Marcia and Brent had already removed their jackets and were on their way to the chapel with flowers.

  “See you,” said Jennifer as she left with her container.

  Ten minutes later the garage was emptied of flora and the three of them brushed the pollen off their clothing before retrieving their jackets.

  “I’ll introduce Brent to Elaine and ask her to order lunch,” said Marcia.

  “Perfect. I’ll get the file ready for the new call.”

  However, Jennifer lingered in the garage, pacing once again as she waited for the police. With five minutes to go, she slipped the plastic bag with the envelope to her inside pocket and went out back. Another flower van pulled in, followed by a car. She hoped it was the officer. The other family would be arriving shortly and she didn’t want to be interrupted.

  It wasn’t a man but a woman who exited the vehicle and walked purposefully to the garage area. She wasn’t in uniform either but a light-tan pantsuit.

  “Ms. Spencer?” she asked as she approached.

  Jennifer nodded.

  “Detective Constable Ziegler,” she responded as she pulled her badge from her pocket. Detective Sergeant Gillespie asked me to stop by.”

  Wordlessly Jennifer pulled the envelope and note from her pocket and handed it to the Detective Constable.

  “I bagged it just in case there are prints, other than mine, of course. The man was wearing gloves when he handed it to me.”

  “I’ll make sure to pass that on. Thank you.” She turned and walked back to her vehicle and was gone a minute later.

  Glad that’s done for now, thought Jennifer. I need time to process everything and check that handwriting.

  Once again her phone rang. This time it was Chaplain Salinas.

  “Hi Regina, how are you?”

  “Good, thanks. We have a name for your young lady. She’s Winter Clarke. Her last known address was in Toronto. We found a birth certificate in her pocket, it seems to fit her age, and one of the nurses said she responded to being called Winter.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Physically she’s fine, emotionally not so much. She has yet to say anything. The social worker has arranged for her to go to a shelter. It’s close to you actually.”

  “I’d like to see her once she is settled in. She’s been on my mind a fair bit. I wish she could get psychiatric support in hospital.”

  “Me too. The shelter is a safe haven for her. Unfortunately the psychologist, Dr. Janssen, can only see her twice a week. The staff at the shelter are well-trained in handling traumatized people. They will take good care of her. As for the visit, leave it with me. I’ll contact the shelter and leave our information.”

  “Thanks, catch you later.”

  Another car pulled into the lot, this time it looked like it could be the new family. Jennifer cut through the garage and went to the front office. She suddenly felt tired and achy ... and the morning wasn’t over yet. With any luck her day would end by ten o’clock tonight. I’ll be so glad when we’re staffed properly, she thought. I’ve been pulled in a dozen directions today.

  “Hi,” said Elaine as she looked up from the computer. “Lunch has been taken care of. Marcia tells me Jeff called in sick. She wasn’t impressed, he could have called sooner. She figures he’s hung over. Brent seems like a nice match for Williams. He and Marcia are hard at work in the chapel. Here are the details for your new family.”

  Jennifer glanced at the message slip. They had just lost their mother; she died at the hospital during the night. Jennifer noted the name and tucked the message in her pocket.

  “I’ll leave you the front office and move to yours,” said Elaine as the door opened. “See you in a bit.”

  Jennifer greeted the family, introduced herself and took them into the front office. The two men explained they were brothers and that their mom, who had been healthy and busy one day, became seriously ill the next. Within forty-eight hours she was gone. As the one brother talked about how his mom loved her grandkids, he broke down into deep painful sobs.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Their pain triggered an emotional reflex in Jennifer.

  “Take your time.” She reached for a box of tissues.

  “Mom raised us herself. She worked hard to make sure we got what we needed, not always what we wanted. She made us find odd jobs to help us go to university. She pushed us to read and learn and develop a work ethic.” He turned to his brother.
“Remember how you’d make me finish your paper route?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember the trouble I got into when she found out?”

  “We’ve both been so busy with our lives we just didn’t pay attention to her like we should have. Now she’s gone.” A fresh wave of grief elicited a flood of new tears as he reached for a tissue. “I didn’t think she was going to die. I had no idea it would hurt like this.”

  “Losing a parent at any age is painful and permanently life-changing,” Jennifer said to them. “Don’t be afraid of your emotions. Your mom loved you as deeply as you are grieving her now.”

  “It wasn’t until I had kids of my own that I understood her sacrifices.”

  As the conversation evolved, Jennifer was able to understand the kind of individual their mother was. “How do you want to remember her?” she asked. “What can you do to incorporate that memory into her service?”

  She gave them all the time they needed, and when they left the funeral home they had laid out ideas for her memorial service. There would be no visitation. They were going to have cremation and take care of the rest of the details themselves, holding the service in a park.

  She found the staff in the lounge having lunch. It felt to her that the past six hours were really three times that, and knew she needed to eat to get her energy up. She was intrinsically weary. No wonder, she thought. Two large visitations, incident at City Hall, police involvement again, at-need call, interviewing a new employee, potentially purchasing a new funeral home—too much for anyone.

  The last thing she wanted was food, but she forced herself to eat a little. Elaine told her that Mr. Duncan’s office had confirmed the two o’clock meeting. The mood of the staff over lunch was buoyant and upbeat, and Jennifer did her best to match it. Jen asked Marcia if she could do the transfer in between visitations then went to her office to start the file for the new call.

  Checking her watch, Jennifer realized the Gordon family would be in shortly for the visitation. She found Marcia and Brent fussing over last minute details.

  “Marcia, I’m going to re-introduce you to the family and let them know you will be available if they need anything,” said Jennifer. “I should be back by four o’clock.”